Feeling Festive
by JCBS
Summary: It’s the holidays, and Chewie’s hung mistletoe in the Falcon’s hatchway with care. Will Han and Leia follow tradition? Pre-ESB.


_Many, many thanks to my amazing betas, jediofgrace and Mermaid32, who helped me transform this from a hot mess into a coherent ficlet. You guys rock!_

**Feeling Festive**

By JennyCBS

As she crossed the Echo Base hangar with Luke Skywalker at her side, Leia Organa's trained eye immediately spotted Han Solo. His lean form faced away from them as he worked outside his weathered ship, near one of the _Millennium_ _Falcon_'s landing struts. Though Leia hadn't seen Han since his return from a recent supply run, his appearance was much the same as always: disheveled hair and hooded parka paired with Bloodstripes.

Chewbacca had invited Leia and Luke to the _Falcon_ for a special dinner to celebrate the galaxy-wide holiday of Arcturus. Leia's stomach began to churn—in anticipation of the meal, she told herself—as they neared the smuggling ship and her captain.

Arcturus, Leia knew, had originated on the mid-rim planet of the same name, but had spread galaxy-wide within a few generations. Originally celebrated to mark the Arcturian solstice, it had evolved to include diverse meanings, depending on the planet. The most popular was the birth of a system's god or goddess, which often miraculously fell on the exact date of Arcturus' solstice. No matter: sentient beings from many systems looked forward to the holiday as a day off from work to spend with family or friends, merrily toasting any god, while eating and drinking to their hearts' content.

As Leia and Luke neared the _Falcon_, Chewbacca descended the boarding ramp. He spoke briefly to Han, who immediately turned in their direction and opened his arms wide. "Well, if it isn't the honored guests. Chewie's been cooking all afternoon for the two of you."

"Chewie, I hope you didn't go through too much trouble," Leia offered," although you know I much prefer your meals to the mess."

"Yeah, you spoil us with your cooking, Chewie," Luke agreed.

"You both do," Leia added, catching Han's eye and holding his gaze.

Han pressed his lips together—the move hardly noticeable— then looked away, apparently caught off-guard by the compliment.

"Yeah, well, don't go getting all mushy on us," Han protested. "Ain't good for Chewie's ego."

"Right." Leia rolled her eyes. "Chewie's ego."

Han shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips.

[Come aboard, Chewie invited. [Our meal is ready.]

The three humans followed the Wookiee up the ramp, but stopped short when Han exclaimed, "What's this?" as they entered the ship. Han was pointing an accusatory finger at a sprig of greenery hanging at the top of the hatchway.

Leia immediately recognized the plant as mistletoe, a symbol of the holiday in many systems.

[No need for anger. I am feeling festive and have simply decorated in the manner we do on Kashyyyk.]

"You been makin' me celebrate Arcturus with you for years," Han grumbled. "Ain't never hung mistletoe before."

[I have not felt the desire before.] Chewie crossed his arms, looking a bit self-righteous. [Now, please tell Little Princess that on Kashyyyk, mistletoe berries are a symbol of fertility because the seeds resemble se–.]

"I'm sure Her Worship already knows the symbolism of mistletoe, you big furball!" Han sputtered. "She don't need a lecture on it from the likes of you."

"It's all right, Chewie," Leia reassured him. "I'm happy to learn about what mistletoe means to the people of Kashyyyk. On Alderaan, it was a symbol of peace, love and understanding."

"But why'd you hang it in the hatchway?" Luke chimed in.

[Because lovers are expected to kiss under it. Our tradition states that beings who kiss beneath the mistletoe will experience enduring love and be bound to marry.]

"For the love of—!" Han managed, throwing up his hands, before Luke interrupted again.

"Did he just say couples are supposed to kiss under it, Han?" Luke's inquiry was sincere.

Leia felt her cheeks grow warm. She ventured a glance in Han's direction, but he'd looked away from her, seemingly distracted by a particular smudge on the bulkhead, of which there were many.

"Nevermind. Chewie's full of it." Han turned on his heel and started down the ring corridor, toward the main hold." Come on. Let's eat."

Now, several standard hours later, Leia watched Han key the code to lower his ship's boarding ramp so she could return to her quarters. Their family-style meal—featuring Kod'yok steak, sunchokes, and various greens Han had procured on a recent supply run—had been delicious, and Leia was loath to leave the friendly confines of the _Falcon_. This had been her first truly enjoyable holiday in over a standard year, she realized, and she'd much rather have remained aboard with her friends than return to the reality of duty and war awaiting outside.

As Leia surveyed the _Falcon_'s interior one last time before disembarking, a flash of bright green caught her eye. _Huh_. She had completely forgotten about the mistletoe during dinner, distracted by Chewie's storytelling and Han's thigh occasionally brushing hers as they sat side-by-side on the acceleration couch. There'd been nothing for it; Han's legs were miles long and—.

A flutter of excitement inexplicably flowed through Leia as she realized she was standing beneath the mistletoe now, and the implication of that, should she wish to follow tradition…. She considered moving out from under it, but doing so would make her move obvious to Han. Instead, she decided to stay put and take her chances that Han wouldn't notice, or that he wouldn't care. It wasn't certain that Han even wanted a mistletoe kiss, holiday or not, Leia reasoned.

In any case, they had no audience now. Luke had fallen asleep on the acceleration couch nearly a standard hour earlier, one too many shots of Arcturian schnapps contributing to his early slumber. Han had made him comfortable by placing a pillow between his head and the hard bench, while Leia had draped one of the _Falcon_'s colorful gabal wool blankets over him.

"He'll sleep it off and be good as new in the morning," Han had assured her.

Not long after, Leia had bid Chewie good night, and Han had walked her to the ramp. Now here they were, possibly at the mercy of Chewie's holiday "decorating."

Chewie was no fool. The wry thought crossed Leia's mind as she turned now to face Han. Chewie knew that at the end of their evenings together, this exact spot was where she and Han stopped to say their parting words. No wonder Leia often got the niggling feeling that Chewie was trying to facilitate her relationship with Han.

_Relationship_ was not the right word, Leia thought. She and Han were friends, yes. And at times, she thought they might be something more. In fact, she knew of no other women on base whom Han invited aboard the _Falcon_ for meals or sabaac, or…. Echo Base was a gossip factory, so she'd certainly have heard about it if he did. No, the rumors of _Han Solo: ladies' man _had turned out to have no merit, at least not lately; Leia felt certain of that. She'd not seen Han so much as flirt with any other women in the past… year?_ Was that right?_ Any other women besides _her_, Leia acknowledged, and her stomach dipped at the realization. _Flirt?_ Pick fights and get her fired up, was more like it. Regardless, she and Han had not yet so much as kissed, so, no, a _relationship_ was definitely not what she had with Han.

"You look like you're light years away, Sweetheart."

Han was watching her closely. He must have moved into her orbit while she was busy speculating about Chewie's motives and daydreaming about what she and Han meant to each other. Before she could stop herself, Leia glanced up at the mistletoe above their heads, then felt her face flush, as if she'd inadvertently shown a sabaac card she meant to keep hidden.

Han didn't miss her observation. He shrugged as his face broke into his trademark lopsided grin. "Whaddya' say, Sweetheart?" He peeked up at the mistletoe, then waggled his eyebrows at her, indicating that their current position was not lost on him.

Was this Han's way of propositioning her for an Arcturian holiday kiss?

A tingle ran down Leia's spine as she realized that this was _exactly_ what Han was proposing. She knew it as well as she knew her name.

Gods, this wasn't how she'd imagined their first kiss might happen, all the nights she'd dreamt of it, fantasized about it, alone in her bunk, so chilled with cold and loneliness that she wasn't sure which it was that vaporized her breath with each exhale.

Han nudged her boot with his as he moved closer yet. "Somethin' you wanna share with the class, Princess?"

Han had placed his arm on the bulkhead behind her, but they were not touching. Leia brought her eyes to Han's, despite her fear that in so doing, she'd reveal more to him than she intended. His clean-shaven face was angled down toward hers, and his twinkling eyes belied his serious expression.

Before Leia could find her voice to answer, Han took another half-step around her so that his body was fully facing hers, in effect blocking her exit. He was now so close that she could feel his chest rise and fall with each breath.

Leia took a shaky breath of her own. Why was Han's proximity to her making her come undone like this? This wasn't the first time he'd stood well within her personal space. During their recent mission to Niirst Juene, they'd been forced to squeeze into a narrow passageway in order to avoid detection by a passing squad of Stormtroopers. The opening had been barely wide enough for one human of average size, let alone 185 cm Han Solo _and_ herself, Leia recalled, at the same time wondering why she'd committed Han's height to memory.

"Good thing you're a petite princess, Princess," Han had whispered into her corona of braids, attempting to ease the tension as their bodies pressed into one another in the tight space. There'd been nowhere for his arms to go but around her body as he'd pulled them as far back into the doorway as possible. Leia'd had to bite her lip when Han started running little circles with his thumb along her lower back, no doubt trying to distract her from their predicament.

Despite the danger they'd been in, Leia hadn't wanted the moment to end, having never before felt how perfectly her body could fit against someone else's. But the Stormtroopers had passed with nary a glance in their direction. She and Han had lingered a bit longer than necessary, then extricated themselves from their tight confines. They'd both heaved a sigh of relief as they stepped out, but Leia knew from the lingering look they shared that it wasn't just because they'd escaped Imperial notice.

Leia was reminded of that shared look now. She felt Han's eyes boring into her as she brought herself back to the present. Han's ever-riotous hair came into focus, and she longed to run her fingers through it, perhaps even muss it a bit more…

With his gaze locked on hers, Han brought his hand to her upper arm and ran it down its length, leaving prickled skin in its wake. From his gentle demeanor and sober expression, Leia knew that Han was not joking any more, and nerves coursed through her.

Determined not to let him see her inner turmoil, Leia lifted her chin in the most regal manner she could muster. "Blocking my exit, Han?" she challenged, relieved to have found her voice at last, albeit with a bit less bite to it than usual.

Her words seemed to have the opposite effect from what she'd expected. Instead of backing off, Han leaned in ever so slightly, bringing his lips to her ear. "I'd never do that, Sweetheart."

As his subterranean voice reverberated in her ear, Leia's chest squeezed at his tender words. Han's hand was still holding her forearm, and despite her snowgear, Leia swore she could feel the heat from his skin suffusing hers. She took a deep breath and focused on the question at hand. Was this what she wanted? A mistletoe kiss from Han Solo?

As if reading her mind—her uncertainty—Han moved his lips away from her ear and stood up straighter.

"Leia," he murmured. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Chewie's just bein' a wampa's ass, tryin' to get his kicks from us." Han lowered his head until he caught her eye, then smiled reassuringly. "He's a big sap at this time of year. Misses Malla and all." Han squeezed her arm.

Leia relaxed at his words. Bless Han, for making her feel at ease. "I don't know..." she ventured, gathering her courage. "It'd be a shame for Chewie's effort to go to waste…"

Before the words were out of her mouth, Leia felt blood rush to her face. She was certain Han could feel her trembling as she pulled slightly back on the arm he was holding, allowing it to slip into his grasp, until his hand enfolded hers. She twined their fingers and squeezed, wordlessly hoping to convey to him that, _Yes_, this was what she wanted.

Her body now flooded with adrenaline, Leia leaned in ever so slightly, placing her free hand up against Han's chest. She felt him squeeze her hand in response as his other hand move to the small of her back. Pinpricks of heat, the size of Han's fingertips, penetrated her snowsuit.

Han leaned closer—his face now only centims from hers—his eyes falling to her lips. "Yeah, Sweetheart," he mumbled. "It would be a shame…"

Leia felt Han disengage his hand from hers. What was he doing? Did he not want this mistletoe kiss after all? Had he only been teasing? Alarm shot through her like a hyperwave warning.

But no, Han wasn't teasing. His eyes were still locked on hers, his gaze so intense, that Leia forgot to breathe. She felt his fingertips caress her cheek. When his fingers moved into her hair, Leia's eyes closed of their own accord, and she was no longer in control of her body. She leaned in, pulled like a ship caught in a tractor beam, and finally—_finally_!—felt Han's lips brush hers. They were soft and full and Leia thought she might die at their brief touch.

When his lips grazed hers again, Han gently tugged her closer with his hand at her back. Again, Leia marveled at how exquisitely her small body melded with his, like Vega melting into Izar in the constellations above Alderaan. She didn't resist; the feeling of Han's firm body supporting hers was too desired.

Leia lost track of time and space until, too soon, Han began to pull away. Desperate for one more touch, Leia pressed her lips to his once again—savoring them them this time, along with the hint of sweet whiskey that remained there—promising herself that she would keep this memory close to her heart forever, if it was the only kiss she and Han ever shared.

Their lips lingered for another eternal moment, their mingling breath the only sound. Then, reluctantly, they parted.

"Happy Arcturus, Sweetheart," Han whispered, his lips now on her cheek.

Without opening her eyes, compelling her hand to remain steady, Leia moved it from Han's chest, up to the nape of his neck. At long last, she reveled in the touch of his hair—fleetingly running her fingers through the thick locks—then opened her eyes, looked into his, and echoed, "Happy Arcturus, Han."

As she stepped back, Leia mirrored Han's earlier move: letting her hand run from his neck, down his bicep, then clasping his enormous hand in her small one. She squeezed—felt Han return the sentiment—then let her fingers slip through his grasp. Han's eyes never left hers.

Still wrapped in the feeling of Han's hands on her back and in her hair, his lips moving over hers, Leia willed herself to turn away and move through the open hatch into the hangar bay. Putting a hand to her lips, she floated down the frozen boarding ramp, having never felt warmer, than in that moment.

A/N: _Thanks so much for reading! I've got more Han/Leia fics in this 'verse in the works, so if you enjoyed this one, please consider following me, as those will be published as separate stories. Special thanks to all reviewers; your comments mean so much!_


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